All That Matters
by Taste's Like Home
Summary: A young woman was there that fateful night in the Opera House. Hideously burnt, she loses everything she cares for. Searching for her missing sister in the OH ashes, she comes across the man who caused her pain... Vivid descriptions and some gory scenes.
1. Never Again

Thats All That Matters

**Ok, this is my first Phantom Fic, so please tell me what you think. It's set in around 1874, and the room described is an operating theatre, you know the round ones that in them days they used and people would watch? A big round room... anyhow, you'll get my gist hopefully. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1

I lay on the wooden bed, looking absentmindedly at the ceiling. I could hear the footsteps of the spectators, doctors, medical students, artists and those with a thirst for blood enter the room, taking their seats before looking down at the stage in front of them. They couldn't fully see my face, only one half of the theatre was being used due to wood rot in the seats on the left side. My right side was normal, my soft ivory skin unmarked and unmarred and almost porcelain looking, no blemishes or scars. My deep blue eyes were protected by thick, dark eye lashes, full and obvious with a slight curl to them. The right side of my nose was slightly too small for my face, but not obviously so, and my lips were small and almost pouty, due to my oversized bottom lip. It had always been the thing I worried about, physically, my big bottom lip. Most people said that it was hardly noticeable, well, my dear mother did, but you can tell when somebody's lying to you to make you feel better.

The room was hot and stuffy, not really enough oxygen to go around the amount of people in the room. I could hear them complaining about the heat, and why the surgeon wouldn't open the windows. The sweat was dripping off me, it was the early afternoon of what felt like the hottest day in summer, and I was feeling it. The warm air was sticky as it entered my already dry throat, I was beginning to get nervous, just like I said I wouldn't.

It took about 10 minutes for the crowd to calm down, mumbled conversations could be heard from the stands if you listened closely, well dressed doctors with note pads and pens talking to other well dressed doctors about my… extensive burns and scarring, artists with their pencils making impressions of the room and of me as I laid there, members of the general public reciting to each other what they had read in the newspaper about the terrible accident, and how unfortunate I am to have suffered so badly. Pity makes me sick.

The surgeon walked in, the swinging doors bringing a warm wind for which I was extremely grateful. The room falls almost silent as the man, Doctor Christophe Chatal entered the round with 3 assistants, some lucky medical students. Dr Chatal was Paris's best up coming surgeon. He'd seen my story in the newspaper and heard it on the streets, and with his low reputation decided to offer to help me, for free, and boost his rep at the same time. Knowing that it was a publicity stunt, that he was young and rash, that the chances of survival were not too good, I accepted it. I had soon realised that I would do anything to save my face, or what was left of it. He strode into the middle of the room, next to where I was laid and addressed the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen. As you may know, my name is Doctor Chatal. You are here today to watch me work on a patient. For the medical students here today, I will be treating the patient, Miss Mirabella Bouchard for severe facial burns, lacerations, damage to her left eye and a torn eardrum, I will be doing this by…"

That was the boring part. I didn't listen to any of it, even though he told me to. The only part I heard was "cut open", and that's when my hands would have been sweating, if they weren't already.

He stepped slowly towards me and smiled. He was about to speak, but then turned back to the audience above him.

"Oh, and please let me take this opportunity to apologise for the heat. I'm sorry, but I will not open the windows whilst operating."

Chatal had been obsessed over the English Joseph Lister's invention of antiseptics. He truly believed in the new germ theory when a lot of other doctors didn't. He wouldn't let the window be open, the assistants and himself had to wash there hands and gloves with soap before they began, and all of his tools were sprayed with carbolic acid. Including the area which he was operating on.

He explained briefly what he was going to do to me, in simple terms. He was going to make me unconscious, then operate on my eye and try to do something with the burns, although he wasn't sure what. I agreed, and suddenly my heart rate quickened. He told me that he wanted everyone to see the side he was operating on, so turned the table around so that the audience could see my face. There were a few gasps of shocks, but other than that, a silence that told me that they hadn't expected it to be this bad. The good doctor turned to me and smiled and told me that they were to begin. I saw one of the assistants open a bottle of something and pour some onto a tissue. Chatal must have noticed my concern.

"Don't worry, Ma Cherie, that is only the chloroform. It will make you unconscious while I operate. You won't feel a thing." The assistant brought over the tissue and gave it to the doctor. "I will hold this over your mouth, and I want you to breathe normally." Breathe normally? I was practically hyperventilating! He held the tissue over my mouth; I didn't breathe it in at first. The vapours from it stung my eyes and made them water, it didn't smell of anything and that was the worst thing. Eventually I had to breathe, and what a breathe it was, long and desperate, the warm air and chloroform vapours filling my lungs, I began to feel tired, my eyes desperately trying to stay open, then suddenly, there was nothing.

Suddenly, I was back there. The Opera Populair. I was sat with my fiancé, Armand, and my sister, Carolina,watching the opera Don Juan. It was spectacular. The fiery reds and oranges mixed with the depth of the black made it sinful and almost erotic to watch. The dancers moved so perfectly it was mesmerizing, the plot of scheming and betrayal was disgusting yet enthralling, and the voice of the young Miss Diae was truly amazing. Her voice was just how they had told me it was, enchanting. The tones her voice reached with ease were of such pitch that it hurt my ears in a pleasurable way. Then, what was to be the final scene between them, Don Juan came back on the stage after enticing the poor girl into his trap, the snare was set, he made his move on her, she tried to fight it but couldn't. They made their way slowly towards each other, by now the whole audience wanted shamefully to see them touch, their steps slow until eventually they were facing each other. And before anyone had realised he had her in his grasp, touching her young innocent body with a way that, in hindsight, no actor could have achieved. So lustful he was for her, for everything she could offer him, so desperate. It was so… erotic. The lust that Don Juan held for that girl was overwhelming, there wasn't a single person who could say that they were not sexually aroused by that scene, however shameful it would be to admit.

I was so enthralled by the performance. I watched every single move that they made, watching the sparks that seemed to fly when they touched. That is why it was such a shock when the foolish Miss Diae took the Don's mask off, only to reveal the monster behind it. I, along with the rest of the audience, gasped in shock, even though I was not repulsed by his face, I could barely see it from where I was. I was in the middle on the bottom floor, the balconies were too expensive for him to buy, and he insisted on paying. After a moment of shock, the monster turned and cut a rope, falling into darkness, taking the lovely Miss Diae with him, leaving before he could see the damage he had caused.

The chandelier. Over 150 candles on it, dancing furiously in the wind as the chandelier came crashing down from the ceiling, at such a descent that when it fell to the floor, those underneath it were killed outright. Armand and I were sat in the middle, and it crashed to the left side of the theatre. The material on the chairs was instantly ignited, burning and destroying everything it touched, thick black smoke billowing from the small fires that it caused. It was chaos. Hysteria swept over the theatre. There was not a single person who was still or silent. Screams everywhere. Everyone. The strong climbed over the weak, pushing them down to the floor, trampling on them, bones snapping, ligaments tearing, more screams, more panic as they looked behind to see the whole of the left wall engulfed by flames, burning curtains falling, causing more fires. People who thought that they were safe from the fire soon found that they weren't when chairs began to spontaneously combust, a white smoke being released. I was one of the trampled ones. My face pushed into the carpet as people climbed over me, I wasn't a human, I was an obstacle blocking them from their way out. Armand tried to help me, but there were so many people, he soon lost me. I was alone, with others in my position, screaming in pain for people to let me up, I raised my head a few times, even brought up a knee, but I was soon pushed down. The noise from the screams was deafening. Eventually the different noises became one, just one mono sound. Then, suddenly, a pain. A pain so blinding I couldn't see straight. My ear. I heard nothing through it, but it hurt so badly. I instantly grabbed my ear, but nothing helped it. It was a pain like I had never felt before, searing through me, like a bolt of lightning it struck me everywhere.

I somehow managed to get up, my vision and hearing distorted from, what I thought was the pain. I screamed for help, anyone to help me, but no-one even noticed me. People were on fire, I saw them running around but none of it made sense. I was in so much pain that I knew of nothing else, until I fell on a chair.

I said before about the chairs spontaneously combusting? With a white smoke that comes off it before it sets alight? The reason I know that, is because I was leaning on a chair when that happened, the white smoke rising to sting my eyes and cause them to water. I lowered my head to get away from the smoke and wipe my eyes, and as I did, a flame that wasn't there before licked my dress, the lace disappearing before me as it tore up my body, licking the left side of my face as it ravaged my body. The heat hurt my eyes, I could smell burning hair and skin as I realised it was my own, a thick smoke rising to my nostrils as I tried desperately to stop it. It didn't take long before I passed out.

It was Armand who saved me. Throwing his jacket over me and putting out the flames, the silk sticking to my face. That's all I know happened. And I only know that from a nurse who treated him. Armand died that same night. They don't know why, smoke inhalation or even shock they put it down to. Carolina was never found. I assume that she's dead, although I don't want it to be true. I wanted so bad to find her body, to take it home to my mother and father so we could give her a real burial.

When I awoke it was dark. I couldn't see anything, my eyes wouldn't open. There was a nurse over me, sighing and talking to me. I didn't feel anything when she touched my face. It felt cold. My ear, however, was still a cause of a drilling pain that coursed through my body. She was talking to me, though I couldn't hear. I passed out again.

I awoke again when two nurses were pushing me out of the bed and on to my feet. I could hear them say that another needed my bed, one who could pay, but at the time I didn't understand. They gave me a glass of water and ushered me out of the hospital. The pain was unimaginable. I touched the side of my face, a burn. It was wrinkled and saw under my fingers, and my ear was still hurting though not as bad. My eyes were sore from the smoke and from the hat that nearly dried them out. Now what hurt me most was my face. I was kicked out of the hospital, almost falling down the steps as I stumbled to the bottom, looking for a mirror I could look at myself in. People were gasping and looking away from me as they passed. I was confused and disorientated, not knowing fully where I was or where I was going. I passed a window and caught a glance at my face.

I haven't looked at it again.

**  
Ok, I don't normally ask for reviews, but seen as it is my first I really want to know what you all think. So please leave a review!**


	2. You will pay

All That Matters

**Ok, this chapter will have quite a few mistakes in it because it is late an I am in a rush. Please be paitent and just take the story for what it is! Thank you!**

**All who have reviewed, thank you so much!**

Chapter 2

I looked at the reflection that I used to call my face as it stared back at me dumfounded. There was no reaction in the left side of my face. A mixture of deep red, white and small patches of black etched over my features, or what was left of them. It was twice the size it should have been, or at least the outline of it was. Any part which wasn't severely burnt was pink and swollen, and very sore. It had a waxy, wet look to it, wrinkled yet felt like it was pulled too tight over the skin. My fingers rose to touch it gently, almost to make sure it was real, tracing the surface lightly, feeling blisters, and the dead pieces of matter that I used to call my flesh. I dared not touch the black and white parts at first, but I soon did, and much to my surprise, felt nothing. The whole time I touched that thing I never once felt pain on what looked like the worst parts. As I followed the pattern of Mother Nature's twisted idea of art I began to notice the more finer details. No eyebrows. No eye lashes. No nostril. Skin over the cheekbone and my eyelid so burnt they were barely open. Swollen pink lips that were too shiny to look real, with no definition to them at all. A black and deformed ear, the lobe and outlines charred, as it was touched it nearly fell off into my hand. I could only just blink. No expression. I hadn't tried to open my mouth and didn't know if I could or not. My neck, a bright pink which was just threatening me not to touch it. Half of me was normal, a few pink areas, yet the other side… I was hideous Bloodcurdling. Unrecognisable.

I was a monster.

It was late. The only reason I know that was because it was dark. Yet there were many people. In and out of the nearby hospital, trying to find relatives and friends. I placed my hand over my face, my palm sensing the heat that was still penetrating the underlying layers of flesh and muscle. I stumbled back to the hospital; they couldn't leave me like this, so ugly and deformed…

I fell on the steps, and instantly put both hands forward to break my fall. It was then that I noticed the rest of my injuries. The back of my hand, the same bright pink as my face, and although I had a long sleeved gown on, you could see the burns that promised that they had already travelled up my arm, the tail end of them already showing on my neck. I wanted to cry, I was in so much pain, although my ear had dulled since my new discovery. I couldn't hear much. But I did hear someone speaking to me.

"Please, Mademoiselle, have you seen my son, Marius Thierry? He was at the Opera, please, have you seen him…" I turned to face her, to tell her that I hadn't seen her son, to beg her for help. She saw my face. "Oh mon Dieu! Get back, leave me!" And with that she ran from me. Ran away from me. Not looking back. I wish that I could say that I felt really sorry for myself, but the pain was so unimaginable… I could think of nothing else. Before I knew it, there was a small crowd, each peering over the person in front's shoulder to catch a glimpse of my face and when they did, they would jump back in shock.

"What has happened to her?"

"What is it?"

"Is it a monster?"

"Look at her face…"

I sat there on those steps, listening to people talk about me, silently mouthing for someone to help me, trying to open my mouth to speak but not being able to. But suddenly, a new leash of desperation as the pain raced through my body, and I cried out,

"Somebody please, help me!" Barely able to hold myself up with my arms I watched as they leapt back in fear.

Then, after what seemed like a lifetime, an angel. A saint. Sent from Jesus himself. Bringing a white healing light with him.

SNAP!

The flash of the camera hurt my already sore eyes and flashed over my sensitive skin, feeling every ray of light that hit it. I couldn't bear to lift my head anymore, my neck was burnt at the back and causing me more pain than it was worth. I looked at my angel disguised as a man and asked again.

"Please, help me…"

Then I collapsed.

The next few days were a blur. I would wake up to see people crowded around my hospital bed, I recognised none of them but they claimed to recognise me. I slipped in and out of consciousness over the few days that past, waking now and again for a few moments. They would later tell me that I was suffering from shock; my heart had quickened and slowed down until it had stopped, fever, little blood circulation. All over the period of a few days.

I finally awoke fully, well, when I say fully I mean I didn't fall straight back into unconsciousness, on the fourth day after the 'accident' at the opera house. I opened my eyes groggily, as much as they would, and looked around my new surroundings. I was in a hospital. That's all I knew. And that the pain was still bad.

A door gently opened, and an older woman walked in, carrying bandages, tongs and a spray can.

"Oh, you're awake! You gave us all a scare, Miss Bouchard; you thought we'd lost you!" The nurse had a thick English accent which was easy on the ears. "I expect that you have a few questions?"

"Yes," I mumbled as the left side of my mouth wouldn't open, "Where am I, how did I get here, who are you…"

"Ssh Mademoiselle, please, calm yourself. You're in l'hôpital royal de Paris. A man, Jean Voisin was his name, a journalist. He found you on the steps of the hospital, and he brought you in. He's paid for all you're treatment, so please don't worry over the cost. My name is Rosemarie Warden, and I've have been appointed to look after you. You've been here for 4 days now." There was a pause.

"What does my face look like?" Rosemarie's face softened as she looked away from me. "Please tell me it was a dream. A horrible nightmare. Please…"

"Mademoiselle, I don't think that you are strong enough for so many questions. You must keep your strengths up." That's when I knew it was bad. I wanted to cry but I couldn't.

"The man, Jean, he had paid for everything? Why?" Rosemarie sighed heavily.

"He took pity on you. And also, his newspaper was failing. Everyone is interested in you, my dear, and he is telling the world about you."

"Because of my face."

"Pardon?"

"Because of my face. That's why they are interested. Isn't that so? Because I am so ugly…"

"Please, no more questions. I must change your bandages." So that's what I had on my face! "My dear, your wounds were slightly septic. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes. I do."

"Oh, alright. As a result, we have to change the bandages more than normal. With the burns been so… deep, a lot of liquid is produced, to try to help them heal. As a result, the bandages can… stick. This might hurt."

"It can't possibly cause anymore pain than what I'm in already."

How wrong was I.

The next few days passed. I was still in a great deal of pain. I found out that Armand was dead, and that Carolina still hadn't been found. The Opera Populaire had practically burnt to the ground that fateful night. A large number of people had been killed and many more injured, although they didn't have an exact amount, they estimated it at around 55 dead and more than 150 injured. But the amount of people, well, they couldn't even guess.

The next day I had a visit from the journalist, Jean Voisin. He wanted to know my story and all. I agreed, and the next day my face and story was headlined on every newspaper from Paris to Notre Dame. There were mixed reactions to my… injuries. So people were sorry for me, other's thought I was an abnormal and should have died that night. Some thought that it was a miracle from God, others that it was a punishment for all the sins I had committed. But it was the reaction from my parents that mattered to me most. Sat by my hospital bed, my mother could barely look at me as she told me that she's always love me. My father wouldn't look at me, than left the room, followed by my mother. They shouted a little too loud as they argued in the corridors, I couldn't help but overhear my father shout that I was a freak who he couldn't deal with anymore as he stormed out. He hasn't seen me since. My mother visits me when she can, but it isn't often. She loves my father more than me and will not give him up for anyone.

A few more days passed, more pain, more anguish. I lost the will to live. Until, a young doctor visited me one day, promising me a new face, the ability to hear again. I accepted, of course.

He made me a mask to cover my face on the way to the surgery. There were children around, and he didn't want me to scare them. The only thing was that it couldn't be plastic because of the risk it might stick to my face, even though it wasn't hot anymore. I don't know what it was made out of, but it didn't fully cover my face. My neck still showed slightly, which I found people staring at... and wondering what was behind the mask.

Which brings me to where I am now. Laid here, on this bed, dreaming of all that has happened before. Yet, someone's calling me… I can hear them…

"Mirabella? Can you hear me? Mirabella? Ah yes, here she is. She's awake everybody."

I felt weak and feeble after the chloroform. Horrible. I can hear people, whispering things. Someone says it too loudly…

"I can't see a difference."

"Neither can I…"

"Mirabella, Mirabella? I have repaired you're eardrum, you should be able to heard soon although it will be swollen. Your burns however…"

Oh no.

"…They are deeper than I first thought. The burn has gone right down to the subcutaneous tissue and in some places has touched the muscle, which is why you can't move some of the muscles in your face. When we first met, you told me that it didn't hurt to touch? That was because the burn was so severe; the heat had destroyed your nerve endings. They will come back, eventually, and when they do, it will hurt. A lot. The burns will leave scars. They will never heal."

Silence. A dull silence in my mind tries to put something together that I can say in my mind. But there's nothing.

"Mirabella? Do you understand what I am saying?"

I understand. I understand exactly. I am going to be a monster for the rest of my life. I will be the topic of everyone's jokes. The one who will be laughed and jeered at. Children will cry and women will hide their young eyes, hissing and cursing at me. Men will laugh and tell me how they would never marry me, not if I was the last object on earth. I will never find love. I will never have children. My own parents won't even look at me. I've lost my sister and my lover. I will hate myself until the day I die. I have been thrown into a life of loneliness and solitude. All because of a selfish man.

Opera Ghost, you will pay.

**Ok, sinister I know. Let me know what you think! **


	3. Poor Girl

All that Matters

**Ok, a wrote this quickly, hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3

I left the hospital the same day as they 'surgery'. I had been given some ointment to put on my wounds and told to change the dressing every four hours. As I slowly walked down the step of the hospital, the shock and realisation of the extent of my injuries still hadn't set in. Although I was in a lot of pain, I still didn't seem to realise that I scared children as they walked past me. I would look up when I heard a child laugh, silently wishing for my own, only to see them look at me and hide behind their parents, or cry, or sometimes stare. Parents would usher them away from me, staring coldly at me if they dare, others mumbling the Lord's Prayer as they passed me. Some even crossed the roads to avoid me. The clip clop of horse's hoofs on the cobbled road would ultimately bring a loud gasp as the riders would stare in disbelief at me. I wasn't a human. I was a freak.

The doctors had tried to make a mask fitted to my face, but the skin was too hot to touch and too painful to deal with. The dead skin had lost its elasticity and was impossible to work with. As a result, they had given me a mask made out of a material I did not know, but it was uncomfortable to wear as they had just cut it out and bent it to the shape of my face, cutting it where it needed to be. You could see under it if you were below me.

I went straight to the only place I could think of; my home. My purse had been burnt in the fire, so I didn't have a key to get in. Climbing the steps of the town house, I saw my father looking out of the window. I smiled weakly at him, but his face remained cold and judgmental. My mother opened the door after I knocked, inviting me inside. I made my way to the spiralling staircase that led to my room, only to feel a hand gently hold my shoulder. The pain of my mothers touch racked through me as I dipped out of her touch, gasping at the pain. A look of pain from my mother.

"I'm sorry, I forgot…"

"It's ok mother." I wanted to rub it, but I knew it would make it worse.

"Where were you going?" I saw my father enter the hall from the side room, standing behind my mother. I knew the outcome before she had hinted it.

"To my room, mama, I am very tired."

"Mirabella?" She called me as I was about to turn my back. I looked at her as she stole a cold glance from my father. "My darling, I, we…"

"What is it mama?" I asked, although I knew what was coming. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. She stole another look from my father. She looked back at me, eyes wrapped in tears as she raised her hand to her mouth and turned away.

"You can't live here anymore, Mirabella." My father said simply.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. Go and collect your things, I, we, would like you to leave." Shock. Cold. That's what I felt.

"But, papa, I don't understand, why…?"

"Look at you. People will be here night and day to see you, even to hurt you. I cannot allow anything else to happen to my family. They will hunt you. They will try to torch this house and burn it to the ground, just like that damned Opera House. I won't allow that to happen."

"But, mama…" She had her back turned, unable to speak, inconsolable, looked back at my father.

"But, I am your daughter… I need you…. Where will I go?"

"I don't know. You will figure it out. Please, don't make this harder than it already is." I could feel the tears begin to sting my eyes. A pause. That damn pause in which the silence freezes over with the cruel, cold emotion from my dear father. I turn from them and walk up the stairs and turn right to my bedroom. I pack a few things, hair brush, clothes, a toy bear that I had treasured since I was a child, my perfume, scissors, paper and pen, photographs of my parents, Armand and Carolina, my drawings and my diary, avoiding the mirror as I packed these things into a small suitcase from my wardrobe. I didn't look at my room as I left.

The suitcase wasn't heavy, but not light enough to carry for long. It clunked down the stairs as I made my way slowly back to my parents, my mother now wailing loudly. I felt ready to join her at any minute. I looked at my father, those cold eyes looking back at me. I was about to take my mask off, the salt from my tears stinging my burns slightly as they trickled lazily down my face, filling the wrinkled crevasses that were my burns, but he placed a hand out to stop me, not touching me.

"No. I want to remember you the way you were. Not this thing that you have become."

Disbelief. Numb. Whatever else you can feel when you have been abandoned by your parents. Told by the only people who mattered that you are a freak.

For what seemed like an eternity I wandered the streets, at first in the day, but I soon learnt that less people would see me at night. I slept where I could, old houses, abandoned buildings, anything. I spoke to no-one. I looked at no-one.

Often I would walk past what used to be the Opera Populaire, thinking of my sister trapped somewhere in the rumble, of that beast who made me what I had become. I had tried to go in, but my strength failed me and fear would take over as I walked closer to it.  
I had soon run out of bandages, yellow pus weeping through the scabs that had formed on the exposed skin. It was healing, only just starting to. But still painful.

Nothing more than a week must have passed. I had no recollection of time. Only pain. Physical and mental. It was just as they had said. People jeered at me in the street. Threw things at me. Cursed me. The pain still hadn't gone, though subsided slightly. My pain was so immense that I tried to end my life. Knife in one hand, a photograph of Armand in the other, I dug the knife deep into my wrist not the top, just lower down. It didn't hurt as much as I had expected it to. But I reacted differently to how I thought I would. The blood trickled down my arm, filling the creases of my elbow, like water in a riverbed. I suddenly felt a deep feeling in the pit of my stomach, this was wrong, aside from that fact that I hadn't cut deep enough to bleed enough to die, the sight of the blood was making me sick. I wrapped the last half clean bandage I had over it, the deep red seeping through. I then vowed I would never try to hurt myself again.

My encounter with death gave me a new leash of courage, and I took my first steps into the Opera House. I had to find my sister. There were still some people in hospital, burnt so bad that no-one knew who they were. I preyed to God Almightily that Carolina wasn't there. I would rather her to be dead than to suffer as I had. I needed proof. I needed to know.

It had only been a week and a few days since the fire, yet no-one seemed interested anymore. The remainder of the doors had been closed, but it didn't take much to open them, not sure of what I would find.

It was unrecognisable inside. Everything that could be burnt had been, and the things that couldn't, like the exquisite marble floor, had big black smoke marks over it. There was a faint smell of something I did not recognise. I found my way back to the stage rather quickly. At first I turned away, the smell was now unbearable. I soon realised what it was; a mixture of burnt flesh and wood. The stage, once host to a plethora of shows and emotions, bright lights and colours was now only three colours, black, brown and orange, with the scent of death lingering around it. The chairs, where the audience had watched many a dazzling performance, now burnt to cinders. Remainders of bodies scattered over them, people who had tried to climb over them to get out, the screams, the fear, the pain…

I had to turn away for a second, block those thoughts from my head. It was disturbing coming here, I realised too late that I should have never gone back so soon. It took a lot of control to stop myself from crying, from vomiting, but most of all to stop myself from running out. I had to find her.

I turned back to the scene of death a few moments later. There were so many bodies, so burnt, so deformed… I would never be able to tell which was Carolina.

I looked for her, gently turning over the bodies, flinching at they twisted little faces, you could see the bones in some. No hair, no eyes, no features. Nothing. Just a room filled with bodies. They could be anyone.

30 minutes later and I could take no more. I could feel the pus and water running down my face from my hard work which had got me no where. No sign of her. I began to look near the places that we were sat, in a desperate last hope to find her, but still nothing. I looked briefly under the chairs…. Nothing.

Until…

I automatically spun around and covered my face, not wanting to witness the sight, not wanting it to be true after all, but there she was. Hidden, under the chairs. When everyone else had gone over, she had gone under, in an attempt to escape the rush and the smoke. You clever girl Carolina. But I bet someone stood on you, hurt you badly. Or you got stuck, in the panic and rush, you called out but under the screams no-one heard you. You poor girl.

I slowly leant down, no longer holding back the tears, a small noise coming from my mouth that was almost a cry. Her face, twisted like the others, screaming in pain in her last agonising moments of life, burnt to a dark red, brown colour. No clothes. No hair. But I knew it was her. She had the bracelet that I gave her as a present 2 Christmas's ago. She never took it off.

I stood and walked quickly to the end of the aisle. I tried to compose myself, but it still cried quietly, my face hurting as my features creased up, tears falling freely now. My hands covering my face carefully, feeling the burns that this terrible fire had given me, realising what I had lost. My sister, my mama and papa, my Armand, my face… my life. I put a hand out to lean on a half burnt marble column, half broken and flaked as I cried against it. I couldn't lean on it fully, my shoulders and upper back had been burnt too. My hand slid down in despair, and it was only then that I noticed that the column that should have been all marble was actually hollow on the inside. Enough room for a man to stand comfortably.

So that's why it had been burnt. It wasn't really marble…

Only upon closer inspection did I see the secret passage way, leading into the dark unknown, a small light at the end…

Nothing left to live for. I won't take my own life, but I don't treasure it as I did before. Before I could stop myself I was already inside the tunnel way, creeping towards the light at the end…

**Ok, now, please review! REPLIES!**

**eknibbe- My first reviewer! Thank you! Hope you enjoy!**

**xXGoddessXOfXDeadXLoveXxx- Thank you! Glad to hear that you're trying new things! Hope you like it!**

**Mr Rusty Ryan- Thank you my dear!**

**Ethereal Singer- It is inspired by your own! Although I prefere yours, for some reason I've gone into LOADS of detail on this one... I don't know why because I normally hate it when other stories do that... I sorta couldn't help it!**

**Thanks guys!**


	4. Mocking

All That Matters.

**Ok, this isn't how I wanted his chapter, so I might change it later. But please tell me what you think!**

Chapter 4

I crawled along the space before jumping out of the end, the jump being higher than I anticipated. I landed of my feet, making a small "Oaf" noise as I tried to control my landing so that I didn't fall over. I stood up and looked at my new surroundings.

A huge stone staircase. Only one light. A nearly burnt out torch on one of the may wall holders. I took it out from its place and held it out in front of me. It was complete darkness without the light. I preyed that it wouldn't run out. There was no doubt in my mind that I would go back, I was here now, and if I was lucky I might meet the man who caused my pain. Not a man, a monster. I began to imagine what I would do if I came across him. Kill him? Maybe. But I wouldn't want to lower myself to his level. Maim him? In the same way he had maimed me? Perhaps. Let him go? Definitely not. Then again, you can never say what you would do in a situation until you're in it.

I began to walk down the staircase slowly, my legs protesting against the amount of work I was putting them through. I had only been walking for a short while, when suddenly, the step I was on fell open. There was nothing I could do, I fell, screaming as I did, my arms flailing, the torch falling with me. My screams echoed around the small hole in which I was falling, seemingly magnified by the depth of the hole... then… I dropped into a pool of deep water.

The cool water took my breath away as it enveloped me before I surfaced. No sound. Just the gushing of displaced water through my ears. I surfaced, taking a huge breath as I did. It was pitch black in here, no lights at all. I heard a clunking noise of something being released above me and as soon as I did I reached for the side. Shuffling against the wall I came across and opening which I quickly climbed on to. As I did, I learnt what had been released. The metal grid was coming down into the water, hoping to trap the some poor unsuspecting person underneath it. One of the spikes caught my leg as it came down, nearly trapping it, ripping my clothes as I yanked my leg away from it. It still got me, cutting my leg deeply. I cried out in pain but was still thankful for getting out in time. If there as a man down here, they would have definitely heard that.

I got out of there as soon as I could. I didn't want to be in here anymore, it scared me. It was absolute darkness, no light. I edged my way along the way, the shook of the fall and the new darkness making me want to cry. I didn't like it here, it was scary, I wanted to leave but I couldn't see anything. I began to cry a pathetic typical girly cry as hope was pulled out of me and replaced by fear. I began to move again, keeping to the wall, side stepping along it. I felt the warm liquid gush down my calf, it was a deep gash and I knew that it wouldn't stop bleeding unless I did something with it. Yet what was I to do? No bandages, no needle and no thread for stitches? I took off the shawl that I had tied around my neck loosely and bandaged it up the best I could in the darkness. The cold water had cooled more, causing me to shiver, my wet hair stuck to my face. What was the point? I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, rubbing my skin carefully to warm myself up. The wet shawl soon filled with blood. I just sat there, wishing that I was somewhere else, the tears falling from my eyes as I tried to cry quietly.

"You're not going to find you way out by sitting here all night are you?" I told myself firmly. "Get up and get moving. Stop being so pathetic." I picked myself up and carried on walking, staying close to the wall, still sniffling from my episode of tears.

I kept on falling of pieces of uneven stone, stumbling as the wall began to curve now and again. I had no idea how long I had been walking for, but for the entire time I had felt as though someone was watching me. I turned around constantly to see if anyone was there, only to be welcomed by darkness. My walking had turned to a shuffle as I tried to feel for cracks in the floor with my feet. The floor had begun to slope a while back for which I took extra care. I took another step forward, only to hear a splash. I jumped back before realising that there was more water here. I took a few steps back, clinging to the wall, waiting for some trap to be sprung. Nothing seemed to happen. I slowly began to leave the wall and walk to the water, along the shore of it. Except for my intrusion in it, it was still. I couldn't hear the waves lapping for there was no wind. I carried on shuffling along, not knowing what I was looking for or expecting. I walked into something, a boat, stubbing my toe as I did. I smiled briefly as I felt the outline of the wooden boat. I looked around for an owner, only to see darkness. It was while I was anticipating entering the boat that the sound of a foot slapping in the water made me realise I was not alone.

It all happened so quickly. A splash in the water, a small wind then a rope tightening around my neck.

Panic.

I instantly grabbed the rope with both hands to try and remove it. No luck. I took a final breath as it tightened, cutting off my air supply. I stumbled back as it was tightened roughly, feeling the person behind me. Their body was right against mine, I could hear his breath in my ear I struggled to escape, but he held me fast. I tried to call out, but it sounded only like an attempt to gasp for air. I needed to breath, desperately now, I couldn't swallow, nothing. Fear filled my body after the panic, I was dying, this person was killing me. I felt my strength diminish, still trying to get an opening in the rope so I could breath. Only a few more moments then I would be dead. Dead. Just like my sister. Just like Armand. I couldn't let that happen.

Adrenaline pumped through my body as in my last attempt at life I elbowed the person behind me. I felt him recoil; I didn't know where I had hit him. He still had a hold on the rope. I did it again, I stood on his toes, but he only let go when I had elbowed him in the groin.

A deep groan of pain escaped his lips as he curled over, both hands falling to his injured groin. I took the opportunity to loosen the rope, taking a huge breath as I did and falling to my knees. I looked up as I heard the footsteps step quickly towards me; I moved back, trying to get to my feet but my legs had failed me in this moment of terror. This man was going to kill me.

"Please, no, don't hurt me…"How could he see me in the darkness? I couldn't see him. He was walking right to me, I could hear him. "I mean you no harm, I am lost, please, don't hurt me…" I began to get up as he got closer, only to have my legs kicked from underneath me as I fell to the floor. He was on top of me, kneeling in between my legs, his hand on my neck again. His grip was so strong; I thought my head might pop off at any minute. I didn't pause this time; I reached up to grab something, to make him get off me. I couldn't reach his face fully, only his cheeks, and maybe his eyes if I really tried. I scratched his face, hearing a sharp intake of air as I did, but he only held me tighter. I punched him, but to no avail. Then, the worst. I rammed my finger into his eye. He yelled in pain as he let go. I heard him fall backwards. I took my opportunity to kick him. Another small yelp. I edged away from him, trying to find the boat, yet also trying to reason with him.

"Please, I don't want to hurt you. I am lost, I just need to find my way out. I never meant to find you…" Pause.

Wait.

Realisation.

This was man was the reason I was there. He killed my sister, my Armand. And he down, on the floor in front of me, about to get up. A red hot fire filled me.

"You!" I shouted as I ran at him, launching myself at him. He was on his knees, pushing himself up, but as I landed on him he was on his back. I punched him in the face; anywhere I could, furiously trying to hurt him as much as he had hurt me.

"You bastard, you... killed… them... I … hate… you…" I kept on saying over and over. Suddenly he grabbed my arms and sat up as if nothing had happened. I was past the point of caring. I didn't care if he killed me. I just wanted to hurt him. I struggled against his grip but he was too strong. Suddenly, he let go, and within seconds he had pushed me off. I landed near a wall, sat with my back against it.

"Look at what you did you me! Look! How could you, how could you…." I was up again, running at him in the darkness, hitting his chest as he looked down at me. "Look… what… you… did… you…. ruined…. my…. life…" He caught my wrists again. I tired desperately to fight against him, but it was no use. My anger turned to tears as they began to fall again. I sobbed loudly against him, my face on the same chest that a few seconds ago I had been hitting. My mask was barley covering my face now. He must have felt it against him, as he let go of my wrist, letting it fall to my side as he grabbed my mask and yanked it off.

"How dare you mock me!" was the thing he said to me. I heard the rare tone of extreme anger in his voice as his hand connected to the burnt side of my face. As I fell to the floor in almost slow motion, his hand recoiled at the wrinkled texture of my skin. My head hit the stone in such a way, that there was nothing else. Only the darkness again.

**I don't know about this chapter, I might replace it yet. Tell me what you think!REPLIES!**

**EtherealSinger- They are evil, well it's mainly her dad. In them days people were really prejudice against people with deformaties. But hey, thats life!**

**eknibbe- Oh! Made your face sting eh? Nice! Hopefully it will be a Phantom/Mirabella, but my stories just tend to write themselves. I don't really concentrate when I write, it just kinda happens. Hence this story. I imagined it differently in my mind but it somehow turned out like this, and no matter how I changed it, it always seemed wrong.**

**Mr Rusty Ryan- Thank you**

**xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx- Thank you! So glad that you are enjoying it! Here's Erik, for your own personal enjoyment! A nasty Erik, but he will get nicer! Hopefully...**

**Thank you all!**


	5. The Phantom's Cry

All That Matters

**Ok, I have had some SERIOUS writers block. I was planning to write again for this one, but I never did. It was only when the phantoms cry emailed me and told me to carry on that I decided to do so. So for all those who wondered if I was still writing, I am, and you have the phantom's cry to thank for it! Just to let you know I have had some really bad writers block, therefore this chapter might be off... but hey, give it a go!**

Chapter 5

I regained my consciousness a few moments later. My face was sore and my head hurt from where it had hit the floor. I hadn't opened my eyes or made any attempt to move as I didn't know where he was. He might have left. He might be waiting for me to wake up. I felt a hand gently touch my face. I tried to stay still, but I felt my felt my body stiffen instinctively as his fingers traced the burns that he had caused. I heard a deep sigh as he put my mask back over my face, then he got up and began to walk away. "Yes, Go! Leave me!" I shouted in my mind.

He stopped.

Another deep intake of breath. He was contemplating something.

"No, please, leave me here, go, go away…" I thought desperately. Although I hated him for what he had done to me I would have to seek my revenge another way. He was far stronger than me, and less consideration for human life.

He began to walk back slowly. Dropping to one knee, I felt his arms under my shoulders and my legs as he picked me up. I tried to regulate my breathing, slow my beating heart. My heart was beating so loudly I thought that he might at anytime hear it. He carried me to the boat and gently placed me in it, pushing it off the shore before getting in himself.

I didn't stir for the whole of the ride to the other shore. I laid there, silently thinking of how of get out of this mess, trying to imagine all the possibilities I had of escape. What if he tried to kill me when we got to shore? What if he was taking me to some torture chamber? What if he wanted to do… more… with me? My mind racing through all the possibilities made me paranoid and even more frightened. This man had caused my pain and tried to kill me. Why he had tried I don't know, however, the fact remains that this potential killer was now rowing me to somewhere I had no idea about. I prayed to God that I would survive this.

Through my eyelids I saw a small light. I wanted to open them, but the risk of him noticing was too great. I knew that there was some light somewhere. Maybe he was taking me back after all! Outside, to the light! I felt him jump out and pull the boat ashore, hearing his footsteps splashing the water like they did the first time I realised he was there. He leaned in and picked me up again, carrying me up a small hill. I dare not open my eyes. I couldn't see where he was taking me; he could be taking me anyway, to a dark pool of deep water to drown me, to get a knife or something to kill me, to his bed to…

"NO!" I shouted as my paranoid mind twisted my reasoning, making me flail my arms and wiggle against him until he dropped me. I fell to my feet and edged away from him, looking around my new surroundings like a cornered rabbit, my eyes wide with fear as they turned back to the man who was now stood in front of me, looking intensely at me. The light stung my eyes but I He took a step forward towards. Instantly I stumbled backwards, trying to keep my distance from him.

"No, y, you keep away from me…"

"I don't want to hurt you again Mademoiselle, but let me assure you, the only reason why you are still alive is because I believe that you owe me an explanation."

"Explanation? F... for what?"

"For a number of things, Ma Cherie. Why were you wandering aimlessly around in the depths of the now destroyed and closed Opera House, what were you planning to do, and why do you try to mock me by wearing a mask?" I could hear the anger rising again in his voice.

"I, I wasn't doing anything, I was lost…"

"Yes, you may have been, however this does no explain why you were in the Opera Populaire when it has been closed for 11 days now." He took a step closer; I took one back, feeling a wall behind me. Oh dear. "I will ask again. What were you doing up there?"

"Nothing! I wasn't doing anything…"

"Mademoiselle, I will only ask you once more, and if I do not hear a suitable answer, there will be consequences for you. What were you doing?" His tone, deathly serious and deadly.

"I, I was…" I saw his expression, waiting for me to continue, "…I was looking for my sister."

"Why would you're sister be in the Opera House? Unless you haven't realised, it has been closed for quite some time, I'm sure you've heard about the tragedy in the newspapers" That statement. His tone. "The tragedy…" so sarcastically. I felt my rage bubble within me again. How dare he mock the damage he had caused! There was no remorse, no signs of repentance in his tone…

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear about it. I was too busy lying in a hospital bed for days after, or hiding from the world to hear about it." He scoffed loudly at this. He had caused so much pain and he felt nothing… his ignorance to the pain he had caused brought about a terrible feeling of injustice and anger within me. I felt my anger consume me as I began to walk forward towards him, no longer afraid. "I was there that night when the chandelier fell. So were my sister and my fiancé. I was looking for my sister amongst the sea of corpses up there, and I found her, her corpse hiding under a chair, the only recognisable feature being the bracelet that I bought her. My fiancé died that night, with the countless others that couldn't escape the fire. You're a murderer; do you know how many lives have been lost because of you? How many people were injured, how many families affected? You have caused so much pain and you show no sighs of remorse! People have lost everything in their lives because of you and your selfish obsession with a girl who didn't love you..."

Before I knew it was had been thrown back against the wall, the stone slamming hard on my back as I felt his weight press against me, crushing my small chest painfully. I felt his hands lock on to my arms and force them back so I couldn't move them. I fought angrily against him but to no avail.

"How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you even touch that subject with your wicked tongue! You know nothing of pain and suffering! I've been to hell, you have only read about it." I looked him directly in the eyes, not looking curiously at the mask that concealed his face. I was past the point of anger. There was no logic or reasoning in my mind.

"I was there! I was there that night! You have taken everything that matters away from me! And what have you gained? Nothing! Nothing! You claim that you've seen hell, well Monsieur, ever since that night that you changed my fate forever I have lived in it! Who are you to change me life? To take away my dreams of love and happiness with the person who loved me just because you will never…"

He did not hesitate to silence me with a hard slap across my face. My head followed his hand as if fell to the side, hanging pathetically as I felt the blood rush to the surface of my skin. My eyes were closed, trying to register the fact that a man had just struck me, something I had never before experienced, replacing my anger with hate. I felt his chest heavily quickly against my own, his breathing short and laboured, trying to calm himself. He let go of my wrist and seized my face, bringing it up to face his own. He was so close to me…

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again." He said, his tone calm but his breathing contradictingly erratic. He let go of my face and wrists and pulled himself away from me, walking away slowly. I stayed pressed against the wall, my eyes never leaving his form.

"You might know pain and suffering, even hate. But you will never know love or happiness. So the pain of knowing that you will never feel that again is a pain you will never know. That is what separates you and me." He turned to look at me again. Through my anger and hate I began to notice this man. His mask perfectly moulded to the contours of his shapely face. Immaculately dressed, as though he himself was leaving for a fine night to an opera. His hair, which I could only assume was a wig, was jet black and slicked back from his face. He looked over me in the same way that I had noticed him.

"Take off that mask you foolish child." He said. I shook my head. "You will not make a mockery of me, take it off." Still, I refused. He came striding back over to me, whipping my hand from my face, foiling my feeble attempt to stop him. I briefly felt his nimble fingers curl under my mask as he ripped it from my face, feeling the cool air from the waters edge spill across it. My free hand tried to cover it as my head tilted forward from his view, but it was no use. He had seen it now. I automatically closed my eyes, screwing them up tightly so that I could not see his expression, but I didn't need to. His silence told me what I already knew. I heard the mask drop from his hand as he took a few small steps backwards. I opened my eyes and raised my head, lowering my hand that was half way raised to my face. He had the expected look of disgust and shock on his face, but that changed to an unreadable expression. He couldn't bear to look in his eyes, so I glanced away, letting him stare at me.

There was so much that I wanted to say to him, yet for some reason, I couldn't. I don't know how long that the silence passed over us, it seemed like an eternity. Neither of us knowing what to say or do.

Finally, he moved. He bent down to pick up my mask, then straightened, taking two steps forward towards me. I still didn't raise my head. He carefully, almost timidly, offered me my mask. I glanced up at him, unsure of his intentions, and then carefully took the mask from his hands. I didn't put it over my face, for some reason I didn't want him to see me do that. I just held it in my hand.

"What is your name?" He asked carefully.

"I don't have a name. Only humans have names."

"Don't be stupid, you are a hum…" I cut him short.

"Am I?" I asked, looking briefly at him before his stare became too much. "Not that it matters anymore, but my name is Mirabella Bouchard."

"How did… what happened to…" He skirted carefully around the questions that he desperately wanted to ask, but knowing it would be inhuman to ask them.

"My face? Why, you did, good Monsieur. You departed too early; you should have stayed and watched the chaos that you caused. I wasn't born like this. You made me like this." He stepped away again. I still didn't bear to look at him, though I lifted me head. I saw him searching for something to say. But apparently, the words had failed him.

"I… I'm sorry." Was all that he said as he turned his back to me and walked away into the darkness of a different room, leaving me to put my mask back on, and contemplate for what exactly he was apologizing for.

**Ok, I am REALLY not sure about this chapter. As I said before I have had terrible writer's block concerning this story, and this chapter is a kinda of block breaker. I can't help but feel that their first meeting should be slightly more. Anyhow, tell me what you think, ideas and improvements would help me a lot. Not on grammer, I know how bad I am. Replies!**

**Captain Ricciondel- Thank you! Sorry for the long wait!**

**EtheralSinger- Thank you! I have been following your story, I love it!**

**the phanton's cry- Thank you!**

**everysecretcode- Thank you very much! Hope you're still with me!**

**xxXGoddessXof XdeadXloveXxx- Aw, thank you! Hope you liked this chappie!**

**Caroline- I didn't fully get what you mean by just read one over, etheralsinger, but I am sorry that I made you cry !(hands over the tissues) Be happy!**

**Mr Rusty Ryan- Thank you**

**lady whats-her-face- Love the shudders! Made me giggle! Not as much description I don't think in this one, but hey, give me a break, I had writers block! LOL! enjoy!**

**Now please leave a review and tell me what you think of this chappie!**


	6. Travelling Footsteps

All That Matters

**Ok, I am so sorry that I haven't updated this sooner! Sorry, this chapter is just to get me back into the swing of writing it! Thank you to all readers and reviewers!**

Chapter 6

I eventually came away from the wall, unsure of where I was, but most importantly, where he was. I couldn't believe that I had just let the man whom I had swore revenge on walk out of the room away from me. I now took the time to look around my new surroundings. It was like a big cave home, made entirely out of stone. The lake in which we had sailed across was huge, it spread too far into the darkness for me to see. There were no windows, no light, other than that that was given out by the many candles that were lit. There were metal gates that acted as doors come down from the low ceiling into the water that were closed. I turned and began to look at the furnishings and such. The place was a mess. It looked like someone had in a fit of anger completely trashed the place. It was a complete mess. The few exquisite mirrors has been long since smashed, there wasn't an item of furnishing that hadn't been broken or nearly broken. The furnishings were lavish and probably very expensive, yet worth nothing now.

The sudden departure of my unwilling host left me feeling apprehensive and somewhat uneasy. The man had a lot of emotional scarring, a lot of thoughts and feelings that he probably did not understand. There was no telling of how he was to act, or what he was likely to do. However, I knew that I was not to leave this… cavern, without his help or permission. I stepped a few feet away from the wall, and looked at the destroyed items that littered the floor. A plate, white and cold porcelain, broken in half, sat with untouched mouldy food on it, hinting that the man had not eaten for quite some time. I picked up a nearly burnt down candle, and carried it with me, edging slowly around the lake. I knelt down to pick up one of the many pieces of paper that floated on the water's surface. It looked like a music sheet, but the ink had long since washed off. I watched as the blank sheet moulded its wet self to fit my hand before I picked it off, watching it tear silently in my fingers.

I stood again and looked around my new surroundings. There were arches in the walls, obvious entrances into other rooms. He could have been in any one of those rooms, and in all honesty I didn't want to go searching for him. My stomach gave me a gentle reminder that I hadn't eaten for a few days, well, what seemed like a few days, I didn't actually know how long it had been. I took a few steps away from the waters edge and went towards the plates that littered the floor. I bent down to pick them up and look at the hallmarks on them to see just how expensive they. There was nothing, I guessed that that part had been broken off or smashed. My stomach gave me another lurch as I stood and walked over to the grand organ that I had only just noticed which was ridiculous given its size. It was the only thing that didn't have a slight layer of dust beginning to cover it. It had obviously been used recently, although there were no music sheets to be seen except the ones in the lake. Did this man play without music sheets? My finger reached out to gently touch one of the key without pressing it down, feeling its smooth surface underneath my finger pad. I was so tempted to press it down, to hear a gently chord or note, but I didn't in fear of him hearing. I removed my hand from the keys, taking it back gently. I didn't even hear his footsteps behind me.

"You made a wise decision by not playing that." He startled me, my hand flying to my grasp my chest, taking a huge gasp of breath.

"Mon Dieu! You startled me!" I said as I turned to face him, I wanted to see him, never for him to be behind me out of my sight, I didn't trust him or what he was capable of. He said nothing, merely looked at me, analysing me. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Eventually he spoke.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because I don't know how to leave."

"It's very simple, Mon amour, you get into the boat and leave."

"Simple it may be to someone who knows these catacombs and unending trails, more difficult it is for someone who does not and lacks the ability to see in the dark!"

"I cannot see in the dark, you made so much noise I could pin point your position." There was silence again. I didn't want to argue with this man. I shifted my feet slightly, my face and arm was aching. I still didn't know the extent of my burns, but as began to feel my torso ache, I guessed that it wasn't just my arms and face.

"How long has it been since you have bathed? Or changed clothes?" My head snapped up.

"Why?"

"Because your clothes are filthy and there is a faint smell of rotting flesh about you."

"Why thank you, you really know how to compliment a woman." His face softened slightly underneath the mask. I could see that he wanted to help me to a certain degree. If it wasn't for my foolish pride and last strand of immature dignity, I might have accepted.

"How often have you changed the bandages?"

"I haven't. They are the same ones since I received them from the hospital."

"Then you run the risk of infection and septicaemia with soiled bandag…"

"I know and I don't care! It's already infected, but I really don't care!"

"It can cause death…"

"I know it can!"

"Then you must clean the wounds…"

"Monsieur, I thank you greatly for your obvious concern, but I really do not care."

"Let me…"

"Do not touch me!" I stepped backwards towards the organ and lifted my hand to slap his away should it come any closer. "I don't want your hands anywhere near me! They've caused too much pain for me so please, excuse me if I decline your kind offer of assistance."

"You will surely die."

"I don't mind. There isn't much to live for now."

"Don't be so foolish."

"Ha! You, of all people, trying to distil into me the will to live? When there is rotting, untouched food all over, broken pieces of… of… furniture lying all over… Ha! I have nothing to live for anymore! All chances of love and happiness have been snatched away from me, you took care to that! As for living day to day, how is that possible, when already people hiss at me in the street? I have already been told to leave my family home for my father's fear of the mobs coming to hurt me, the freak! I feel nothing but physical pain now! Until a little while ago I felt anger and pain towards you! I came here with the intent of killing you to seek my revenge! I have lost that, the last bit of emotion that I possessed! How weak I am! The man who is ruined my life is stood in front of me, and I can hardly bare to look at you! I am pathetic! There is nothing left for me!" I only noticed that my knees were now touching the floor as I looked at the man's knees, realising I was on the same level as them. Tear threatened to burst over the rims of my eyes. "So please, excuse me if I have lost the will to live! I beg you, leave me to wallow in my pool of self pity for a short while before my death!" I had not let the tears flow, although I knew that he would be able to tell that I was nearly crying.

I looked up straight away as he began to walk towards me, but didn't have time to move before he had scooped me up and was carrying me up a small flight of stone steps. As stupid as it sounds, I had only just noticed how much any movement hurt me, how my skin seemed too tight for the bones, that it might rip at any moment. I guessed that the nerve endings were beginning to grow back. Been pressed tightly to his chest was hurting my torso, the creases in my bent elbow also feeling more sensitive.

"Get off me!" I began to fight and wriggle against him, but as I said, each movement seemed to be getting harder and harder, more and more painful.

"You're, you're hurting me!"

"Oh please Mademoiselle, I am barely touching you…"

"No please, put me down, you're hurting me!" Looking down at my masked face he sighed, and put me down in the entrance of the room that he was taking me to. I winced as my body straightened to stand before looking around.

It was a bedroom.

I turned in horror back to him, he was blocking the exit.

"No, no please… I beg of you…"

"What is wrong with you, you foolish child?" This time panic had spread over me. I knew exactly what would happen in this situation, as a young teen my friend had told me the acts that adults engage in, and how one man had forced himself upon a good friend of mine. That friend had told another friend who in turn had told me. She told me about how much it had hurt, and what a terrifying experience it had been for her. I had asked my mother whom had confirmed this and had told me what would be required of me as I grew into a woman. She also explained that THAT didn't belong to me, it would belong to my husband and he alone would have the right to demand it, but also explained how some men would also try to demand it. That had scared me ever since, my single worst fear.

"No, no, please, please…" I couldn't conceal my fear as tears began streaming down my face.

"You are in a lot of pain Mademoiselle, lie down on the bed and I will help you." He began to walk towards me. I felt my pulse rise and suddenly I couldn't control my breathing.

"No, you mustn't, please…" I ran backwards to the wall, away from the bed. He stopped moving. A look of realisation appeared across his features that I simply didn't understand.

"Bon seigneur! You don't truly think that I…"

"No! Please, I beg you, don't come any closer, please, no…" He looked at me with a look that I had never seen before, a confused, yet trying to understand me, trying to figure out what to say to me to put my mind at ease.

"I am not going to rape you, Mirabella. I understand that you don't trust me, and that I have struck you before, but my intentions are not to hurt you."

"I, I don't believe you…" I answered quietly. He sighed deeply

"I don't expect you to. However, if you do not change those bandages and seek medical attention to your wounds, you will surely die. As surprising as it may sound, I would like to help you." I didn't move. Neither did he. He waited a few moments for me to react, but I did nothing. "Very well." He began to walk backwards out of the room, however turned to a wardrobe door and opened it. He pulled out a folded up shirt and pair of pantaloons and walked over to the end of the bed and placed them down upon it. "If my guesses are correct, your garments will be soaked with all kind of rotting flesh and body fluids. They must be removed to prevent anymore infection." He took his lingering hand away from his clothes and began to walk back towards the door. "I understand that they will be too big, but they will do for now. I'll leave you to it then, Mademoiselle." And with that, he left the room, leaving me backed against the wall in case he should return, even though I had heard his disappearing footsteps travel down the stone stairs.

**Ok, I do not know French. Any French that you see has been put into an online translator... so excuse me if it's wrong! Corrections vey much apperciated! Please tell me what you think! Thank you!**


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